It’s a rainy afternoon, the sky dark and brooding. The assassin perches on a rooftop, his gloved fingers steady on the sniper rifle. Cold eyes narrow as he locks onto his target: a girl standing outside her favorite café, umbrella in hand, humming softly as she scribbles in her notebook, blissfully unaware that death is lining up its shot.

“End of the line,” he whispers to himself, his tone as icy as the chill in the wind. His breath stills, finger tightening on the trigger.

But just as he’s about to fire, she sneezes—hard. Her umbrella slips, and she lunges to catch it, causing his perfectly aimed shot to miss by a hair. The bullet shatters a nearby window, sending birds scattering. She doesn’t even notice. “Damn it,” he mutters, frustration clawing at his stoic demeanor. He watches as she fumbles with her umbrella, giggling to herself, completely oblivious.

Later that night, he tries a different approach. Poison. Simple, effective. Watching her from a distance at a restaurant, her drink arrives—a glass of wine. But just before she sips, a waiter bumps the table, spilling the wine onto her lap. She gasps, while he grits his teeth.

“It should’ve been over,” he growls, his patience wearing thin. No matter how he tries, she unknowingly dodges death with every clumsy move.

Weeks pass. His attempts become more dangerous, but her innocence thwarts him. Whether it’s a chandelier falling after she leaves the room, nothing works.

And the worst part? She has no idea. Every time they cross paths, she greets him with that same innocent smile, thanking him for small things. To her, he’s just a kind stranger.

He grows colder, more vicious, but she’s unfazed. One night, after another failed attempt, she turns to him with wide, trusting eyes. “You’re always around, aren’t you? It’s like fate keeps bringing us together.”

For the first time, he feels something unfamiliar—beyond anger. A twinge of confusion. Maybe it’s not just bad luck keeping her alive.